


paenitentia

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Gore, M/M, Vampire Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 16:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14312565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: "... what have you done, Noct...""I saved your life."[Vamp Iggy]





	paenitentia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sutera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sutera/gifts).



He’s too late. He knows he’s too late. Ignis never _calls_ , not for backup and certainly not _him._ Gladio’s always his first choice, for the mere fact that Gladio isn’t the prince; Noct understands that. He’s alright with that. Iggy’s just trying to keep him safe, _needlessly,_ but he’ll always call Gladio so something’s gone _horribly_ wrong for him to call anyway.

And _then_ the way that his voice had sounded on the phone. Wrong. All wrong. Low and hushed and quietly _terrified_ , although if he didn’t know him as well as he did, then he wouldn’t have noticed. But he did, and he _knows_ he’s too late. He just doesn’t know what he’s going to find and that terrifies him, sends him hurtling through the warehouse as fast as he dares. Ignis hasn’t answered his phone again since the initial call and Noctis’s heart is lodged in his throat, panic and adrenaline choking him as he clamors through to find him.

He could be _anywhere._ This place is huge, and he has nothing to go on and he’s panicking, oh God Ignis can’t be dead he can’t be dead he _can’t–_

Noise from the left distracts him, pulls him to an immediate stop even as he wants to keep charging forward. He knows Ignis was here on a hunt. He knows something had gone wrong with the hunt. And given Ignis hasn’t contacted him since that carefully controlled phone call, he’s either injured or in hiding. Or both. And either way? That vampire is probably still here.

He breathes in slowly and deeply, and quietly summons a pair of daggers.

The vampire is swift. Noct catches a glimpse of blood soaked clothing before he lashes out, fingers twisting around the hilt of the blades and slamming them forward. It’s been awhile. He hasn’t hunted in awhile. Because of his status, they don’t let him out on hunts as often as he’d actually like; he’s more a hunter in name than anything else, even if he possesses the training for it. On top of it all, he’s _emotional_ , overly so, and that makes it that much more difficult to fight.

When the claws tear into the soft flesh at his side, the pain is enough to jerk him free of the muddled haze he’s let his mind become. _Focus,_ something whispers in his head, and it sounds an awful lot like Ignis. Noct forces himself to focus, steels his mind and summons up the armiger.

If he lets go of his anxiety, and focuses on the anger, well. Cor had always taught him not to let it get the best of him, but just then, it gives him the added boost he needs to land a critical hit. The runes carved into his blades slow the vampire down; he grabs a stake from the ether and slams it forward, hands shaking, and prays he hits his mark. It’s one strike, with as much force behind it as he can muster, and the vampire shudders and screams and dies beneath his hands.

There’s blood all over his hands. He jerks them back, letting go of the stake. It stays firmly embedded and the vamp’s body falls. The side of his shirt is soaked with blood and he’s gasping for breath. It’s not his first kill, and he doubts it’ll be his last, but there’s the oddest sensation pressing down on his chest and Noctis vaguely wonders if he’s going into shock. It had been too long since he had last witnessed a vampire’s death.

He whirls around at the next noise, a strangled noise bursting free from his lips. His heart is back in his throat and then someone takes it and _rips it free_ , because the new movement is _Ignis_ , staggering up from behind the old shipping crates. He is covered in blood, head to toe, and Noct feels weightless.

“… Nnnoc…”

Ignis looks at him for a long moment, or maybe it’s a short one. He doesn’t know. His eyes are trained on him, but they’re _dull._ So dull, green turned cloudy and skin pale beneath the shock of blood. And then he buckles, crashing to his knees and collapsing the rest of the way to the ground before Noct can even move an inch.

_“Ignis!”_

He goes, knees stinging at the impact of bone on cement. Something had cracked under his foot as he’d gone. A glance back reveals Ignis’s glasses, twisted and broken. Ignis makes a similar noise, and Noct feels his heart stop anew.

“Ignis, hey hey, hey, look at me. Ignis!” He takes his face in his hands. Ignis’s neck is bleeding. Noctis claps a hand to it and it comes away covered nearly immediately; there’s gashes along the veins there. His jugular? _Astrals,_ there’s too much blood, he can’t tell, but it doesn’t matter, it’s _too much blood_. Ignis is going to bleed out, and Ignis is going to die, and although he knew something was wrong and he was going to be too late to stop it, he wasn’t prepared for _this–_ how _could_ he be–

He needs a pulse. His fingers slip through to find a place that _isn’t_ actively bleeding, settle, trembling, against the opposite side of his neck. And… and… _there,_ he thinks, blowing out a breath of relief that isn’t really relief. How _can_ it be? Hovering his hand in front of his nose to check for breathing, and then starting to grab whatever he can to stem the flow of blood. Ignis’s collar is already torn. He rips it free and presses it against the wound and Ignis doesn’t make a sound.

“Ignis. Ignis, hey. Hey!” He shakes his shoulder. He’s not _gentle,_ too panicked and frantic, but Ignis doesn’t move save from the jarring Noct was providing himself. “Don’t die on me!”

_— but…_

He doesn’t need to check his pulse again to know it’s _slowing_ ; he can see the bloodied– Gods, so much _blood–_ rise and fall of his chest getting more and more uneven and he doesn’t know what to _do–_ he can’t let him _die_ , he _can’t–_

The idea hits him in a weird way. The kind of feeling you got falling into bed when you were really tired, a bit of a swooping sensation and then… something like peace.

Ignis’ll hate him. But he’ll be alive.

That’s something Noct’s willing to take the trade-off for.

His hands go slack on Ignis’s major wounds. He carefully edges him away from his lap and onto the cement. He quickly stands and strides back over to the vampire’s body, still in the place he’d left it. Still with the stake in its chest. Noctis leans down and grips it. Then he takes a breath, pulls it free. It goes with a wet squelch, dark blood dripping in small, steady stream from the point. He looks at it for only a moment before turning back to Ignis.

He will hate him. He will _hate_ him.

_He’ll hate himself,_ something in him whispers, but something is so incredibly _selfish_ that he can’t let him go. Not like that. Not because he was hunting, not because he was alone, not because Noct had gotten here too late. He can’t let him die. It’s as simple as that.

Noctis has never been _this_ calm before. He’s too keyed up with his own emotions; he lets them get the best of him even if he doesn’t show it on the outside. But he is now. _Determined._ It’s almost scary, except not a whole lot is scary after seeing all of this blood.

“Ignis,” he murmurs, kneeling back next to him. “I need you to do something for me.” He reaches for his pulse again. It’s barely there, but still fluttering beneath his fingertips. Good. “I just need you to swallow.”

He can’t hear him, he’s sure. That’s probably for the best, because _if_ he heard him, he’d probably be fighting now more than he had been during the actual attack. Well. Maybe _that’s_ a little unrealistic. But he’ll hate it. Regardless of what happens, he’ll hate that this was the last resort but Noct can’t let it go. He can’t let him go. Not like _this._

Running a hand along his bloodied jaw, Noct sighs sharply through his nose. He’s not hesitating. He doesn’t have the time. Instead he leans down and presses his lips against Ignis’s mouth. Then he’s pulling back, raising the weapon he’d used against the vampire who’d done all of this. And then he lets the blood drip into Ignis’s open mouth, heart pounding in his chest as he _waits._

Ignis swallows, and Noct casts the stake aside. He wastes no time in hauling him half back into his lap again, carefully cradling his head in the crook of his arm. He doesn’t know how this works. He’s never seen someone change. But he knows the requirements for it– the vampire has to drink your blood, and you have to drink the vampire’s. After that… well… The cool calm is receding as he can feel the rise and fall of Ignis’s chest growing more faint beneath his hands. Was there more to the transformation? Did he do something wrong? It’s _instantaneous_ , isn’t it? Gods, what if he’s _too late_ , anyway–

He’s suddenly very aware of a complete lack of movement and his attention snaps back down to Ignis’s face. Deathly pale, but he doesn’t _look_ any different. Noctis’s breath catches in his throat and he scrabbles for his pulse again. Nothing. Nothing–

The noise he hears, he realizes belatedly, is _himself._ Choked, frantic mumbling, hands fluttering for _anything_ that might prove to him that Ignis is still here, still with him, that he didn’t fail _twice._

“Ignis. Ignis!” Nothing, nothing, nothing. “Oh Gods, please don’t–” _Please don’t tell me that didn’t work. Please don’t do this. Please don’t be_ ** _dead._** _“Ignis._ Hey!” Hands back to framing his face. “Come on, you always tell _me_ not to sleep on the job–” His voice breaks, and it’s horrible, and all of this is _horrible–!_

– and then Ignis jerks up, hands flying up to his throat and the blood, still wet and sticky, there.

“Ignis!”

Ignis’s breath rattles through his throat, there and gasping and loud and _there._ He’s alive. He’s alive. Trembling minutely, with blood still oozing from his wounds. Noct wonders if they’re healing already. He wonders if the actual transformation has already begun, or just enough to keep Ignis safe.

He lowers his hands into his lap, and Ignis jerks around to look at him.

His advisor has always had laser sharp focus, able to tell the smallest things even when it seemed like he wasn’t paying attention. Able to pluck the smallest details from the largest picture– that’s why he was tactician as well as Hand to the King. But there is something _eerie_ about the way that Ignis’s eyes are focused in on him now… although maybe that has more to do with the fact that Ignis’s eyes are _pink_ instead of _green._

… okay, so the change was happening immediately. Good to know.

He wonders again if maybe he… no. _No,_ Ignis is alive. That’s all that matters. He’s alive, he’s still the same Ignis. Who cares about a little blood and some fangs? Noct won’t let that stop him. He’s just glad he’s _here,_ that his plan borne purely from last resort actually worked. Anything else? They can _deal_ with.

(Except Ignis’s eyes are still _staring_ at him, staring at his throat, he realizes, and he has the insane urge to put his hands over it as if it’ll stop a vampire on the prowl.)

Shifting, he licks his lips to speak. “Hey… Ignis.” He produces a small smile, wary but relieved. “Good to have you back.”

It distracts Ignis. He suddenly moves as though he’d forgotten he’s the one in control of his body. The hand at his neck slides up to press over his mouth, bloodied fingers settling over his nose. “… what have you done, Noct…”

He swallows, and only barely feels guilty. “I saved your life.”

Ignis stares back at him. There’s a mixture of something like a combination of hunger and _terror_ on his face. Then he drops his gaze and turns his head away, and Noctis can’t help but think it looks like Ignis doesn’t believe that statement at all.

**Author's Note:**

> second of the comms for sutera! a bit of an amalgamation of lore from my other vamp au, and an rp we were doing together.
> 
> Ignis does _not_ like this turn of events, unsurprisingly. ah we're so good to these boys aren't we


End file.
